I'm Not a Vampire
by YouPeopleAreSoPettyAndTiny
Summary: Marshall Lee is the new kid starting at ATHS. It's the middle of his junior year, and he doesn't know a soul in this new town… until he gets paired up with a cute freshman in his theater class. They're complete opposites, but for whatever reason he can't stop thinking about her. One problem, though: she already has a boyfriend. AU/AH. Title inspired by the Falling in Reverse song.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:**

In this All Human universe in which the characters of Aaa exist, Marshall Lee is the new kid starting at ATHS. It's the middle of his junior year, and he doesn't know a soul in this new town… until he gets paired up with a cute freshman in his theater class. They're complete opposites, but for whatever reason he can't stop thinking about her. One problem, though: she already has a boyfriend, and he's just as perfect as she is. Can he hope to compete with the school's golden boy?

I was inspired to write this by Falling in Reverse's I'm Not a Vampire, but the plot has nothing to do with the song.

**DISCLAIMER: **I own nothing. Although, I would very much like to own a Fionna costume. That would be cool. –Dawn

What was I doing here? Was there anyone who could tell me? I didn't mean the school itself, because I actually didn't mind the move, but what on earth was I doing in a _drama_ class? This really wasn't going to bode well for my perpetual bad-boy image. Acting wasn't even my thing! I was a mechanic, not some theater freak!

I sat in the eighth row of the school's auditorium, which was technically two rows past where we were supposed to sit, and I glared at the crimson curtain that hung across the stage. I entertained myself by imagining wonderful tortures for my school counselor or whoever had dreamed up this vile excuse for a seventh period in the planning of my schedule, while the class waited for our teacher to come out and take attendance.

Mrs. Petrikov came out soon enough. When she reached my name, she smiled at me. "Guys," she called for the attention of the other students. It took everything I had not to roll my eyes. "This is Marshall Lee, our newest Thespian." There were some welcoming voices among the crowd, but most of the kids looked wary. Good. I didn't need the drama club claiming me as one of their own.

Petrikov then began to ramble on about beginning work on two person scenes. She said she had already cast us, which was a disappointment to the girls already grabbing their friends. She ran down the list of partners and passed out scripts before dismissing us to start working. I was paired with some girl named Fionna. What kind of a name was Fionna? Whatever. I figured I would just stay in my seat and let her find me. It wasn't like I knew who she was, anyway. I shut my eyes.

When I opened them a matter of seconds later, there was a cute blonde girl sitting next to me. Dang, cute didn't even begin to cover it. She was going to be model-gorgeous in about a year or so. She couldn't have been more than a sophomore, if that. She was holding up a thin stack of papers.

"You're Fionna," I guessed. I was really shocked that I hadn't heard her sit down.

She shook her head, her big blue eyes bright with humor. "Nope, not according to this." She waved the scripts in my face and stuck out her free hand. "Hi, I'm your fiancé, Susan. Nice to meet you, Peter."

I couldn't help the tiny smirk that shot across my face. Well, if I was being forced to pretend to be in love with someone, she may as well have a sense of humor. And wavy, golden hair past her waist.

_Shut up, Marshall! Ten minutes in the arts department and you're already losing your edge!_

I shook her hand. "Likewise, Susie." I stood up and stretched, brushing back my long black hair. "We don't really have to work today, do we? I mean, shouldn't we get time to… develop our character or something?"

She laughed, a bright and optimistic sound. "It's not _or something_. It's a crucial part of the artistic process, and that's actually what we're _supposed_ to be doing right now. Don't worry, though. I've got you covered." She winked and jumped up, grabbing my hand and hauling me down the aisle and backstage. "Stay quiet. Pet will blow her lid if she catches us sneaking out of class." We fumbled through the dark until we found a door in a back corner. Creeping through carefully, we were soon in what looked like the empty choir room. Fionna turned around to look up at me, her face inches from mine. "Okay, are you ready?" she whispered. I shrugged, not entirely sure what I was committing myself to. She grinned and pulled me out into a silent hall. "Run for it!" She dashed into the corridor like a demon was on her tail. Startled, I leaped after her.

After winding through unfamiliar halls for what could have been thirty seconds or five minutes, I found myself at the back of the school, outside and overlooking the football stadium, which was just down the hill. Fionna finally pulled to a halt at the hillcrest and bent over, panting with her hand on her knees. I caught my breath and leaned against a tree.

"You know, you really didn't strike me as the kind of girl who ditched class just because some stranger asked her to."

Her laughter echoed between the stadium and the school. "Are you kidding? I got Pet's permission to show you around the school for the rest of the day. I just figured we would get it done a lot faster if you thought you were worried about getting detention on your first day." She grinned at me shamelessly and tossed me the stack of papers. On top of the scripts was a hall pass with both of our names on it.

As I thought about it, I realized that we had made a pretty thorough path through the main parts of the school. Hm, funny and clever. Not to mention pretty and blonde. I would wait for the other shoe to drop, but I had a sick feeling that it wasn't coming.

I smirked and sank to the ground, leaning my head against the tree trunk. I patted the root next to me and she sat. "So you're, what?" I started. "Sixteen?"

"Fourteen," she corrected. "I'm just a freshman, and I'm young for my grade as it is. You're, what? Forty?"

I glared at the sun. "Seventeen, actually. It feels like forty sometimes, though."

"Why is that?"

I clenched my teeth. For some reason there was a part of me that wanted to tell her about Marceline. I had never told anyone about her. I had never _wanted_ to tell anyone about her. She belonged in my old life. If I was going to keep my old life and my old friends in my past, I was going to have to keep my mouth shut. I wanted to start over, I did, and so I couldn't let myself confide in this strange young girl. "It's a long story." I finally muttered.

She rolled her big blue eyes. "Okay, I get that you're trying for the bad-boy image, but the whole mysterious cliché thing doesn't really work for you."

"Oh! I'm trying to be a bad-boy? Well what about you, Miss Perfect? You're such a good little girl, it makes me wonder what you're hiding." I sneered back playfully. There was a flash behind her gaze, but before I could figure out what it was it was gone. Her mouth gaped fumbling for words to defend herself, which made me think I had struck a pressure-point. I raised my eyebrows, waiting for her to respond. A part of my mind was acutely aware of the face that we were face to face, just inches apart. Her breath smelled of kiwis, oddly enough.

Before she could make a sound, her name was called from the parking lot next to the stadium. I looked away from Fionna to see a tall blonde guy about my age climbing the hill toward us. He was grinning broadly. I could could almost see the sun reflected off his teeth like a freaking cartoon. My disbelief turned to amusement when I noticed he was wearing a pink sweater vest.

I snickered like a villain and turned back to Fionna. "Alright, who's the nerd?" She glanced at me awkwardly without a word and stood to greet the freak. When he reached us, he promptly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into a kiss. I absently felt my hands clench into fists.

When they broke apart, Fionna turned sheepishly to me, arms still around Mr. Pinky's neck. "Um… Marshall, this is Barry. He's my boyfriend."

**AN:**

To clarify: I couldn't figure out if Gumball has a first name, so I made one up. Since Bubblegum's name is Bonnibel, or Bonnie for short, I went with Barry. I don't like it, either, but it's the best I could think of.

Review please! - Dawn


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:**

I apologize for taking so long to update. I've had a lot to deal with in real-life and haven't had time to write. I'm so sorry.

A SPECIAL SHOUTOUT to the guest who corrected me on Gumball's name. Apparently his name is Bubba, not Barry. I have decided to fix this by using Bubba as a nickname. For the purposes of this alternate universe, there is a brand of gum called Bubba Gum. Thank you so very much, Guest!

Please review! Also, check out my other story, Ooo… Aaa…, if you like my writing. Thank you for reading!

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Adventure Time. If I did, there would be a _lot_ more Fionna and Cake episodes.

**Here we go…**

My second day at ATHS looked like it was going to be very boring. Morning classes were muddled with fools making stupid, pointless interruptions to the class lectures, which by consequence interrupted my ability to distract myself by focusing on the drone of the teacher's voice. I would never let anyone believe it, but I was actually quite smart and already knew most of the material, as my father was a college professor who was determined to make me follow in his footsteps. My exemplary grades were part of the reason teachers let me get away with acting like a delinquent. I only paid attention in class when I needed to get my mind off something.

The baffling question was, _why_ did I need to get my mind something? I had been distracted since yesterday, unable to control the angry clenching in my gut whenever I thought of my scene partner. Which was often. I couldn't get the image of her arms around her boyfriend's neck out of my head. What kind of name was _Barry_, anyway? Who names their kid that in this day and age?

I couldn't tell you for the life of me why this girl was stuck in my head. She was just a freshman, after all, nothing to me but a classmate. A classmate with perfect hips…

_No. Stop, Marshall. You're a beast, you could have any woman you wanted! Why limit yourself to one girl, especially an unavailable one? It's not like she's the only attractive girl in the school. Broaden your horizons._

Yes. I needed to broaden my horizons. I looked around the class, surveying the room's female population. There were a small handful of pretty girls, but they were all clustered together, giggling at whatever was on each other's cell phones like middle-school girls gossiping about their first crushes. Ugh, where was the maturity? It didn't matter anyway, I supposed. They'd be lining up at my locker soon enough anyway. It was annoying, but they always did, and why should I waste such an easy meal, so to speak? I went back to ignoring them and glared out the window, waiting for the teacher to get the PowerPoint running.

At lunch I hid on the roof of the library. I had a knack for getting onto obscure, high places. It was kind of like parkour, I guessed, but less mainstream because I was the one doing it. Long story short, I climbed a dumpster, pulled myself up onto the thing covering the breezeway and jumped between a few roofs. I figured if there was any place I wasn't going to be bothered it would be the library. The only people who visited this end of the school of their own volition were nerds, and I scared them anyway.

I normally hid out in my car to escape the crowds and the sun, but today the sky was as bleak as my mood which was enough to coax me outdoors. I leaned against an air vent with my eyes closed and pulled an apple out of my bag. I liked to eat red foods when I was angry. The vibrant color made me feel like I was consuming the blood of my enemies. Yes, it was dark, not to mention plain weird, but it was a strangely effective form of anger management. I sank my teeth into the fruit, enjoying the crisp crunching sound that action produced. Again, I did acknowledge how dark that was.

That was about when I heard the laugh that was already too familiar to me. My eyes snapped open and sought the source. I saw her down in the courtyard between the library and the arts department. She walking in my direction with _Barry_ and a pretty girl I didn't recognize with dark skin and oddly caramel-colored hair. They paused just before the eaves, just within earshot but out of my line of sight.

Fionna laughed again at something her friend said that I didn't quite catch. "Cake, don't worry, I _will_ be there."

The other girl responded, "You sure? I know the football team isn't exactly your crowd, Girl," I smirked to myself. If she was dating Pinky, jocks really _weren't_ her thing. "But if you think you can handle it, you won't regret coming. This party is going to be _hawt_."

Barry laughed, kind of a straight-laced chuckle that made my spine crawl with annoyance. "Well, Catharine, in that case I am truly sorry I won't be able to make it."

"You and your stupid debate tournaments, Bubba" Fionna chided the freak. "I swear, it's like you're cheating on me with competitive persuasion."

"Well I had to get good at it if I was going to convince you to go out with me, didn't I?" I almost laughed out loud at that. Well, wasn't that the truth?

Fionna laughed again. "Okay, okay, go ahead and ditch me for your tournament. Now, I have to study if I intend to pass this European History test tomorrow. You guys should go eat." My fists balled at the sound of him kissing her goodbye and then I saw Barry and Catherine walk back across the lawn toward the rest of the school.

I didn't hear Fionna move, so I stuffed my lunch back in my bag and headed to the edge of the roof. She was standing on the lawn, very invested in some text she was sending, which meant she didn't notice me. Her back was to me, so I quietly slipped down, lowering myself from the eves and onto the ground. I leaned against one of the pillars nonchalantly and waited for her to turn around. When she did, she almost walked right past me.

"Cake? Bubba?" I laughed at the nicknames to get her attention. She jumped back, startled.

"Where did you come from?" she demanded, her voice tight with shock.

"The roof."

"Um… What?"

"I was eating lunch. So what's up with the food nicknames? Isn't Bubba a kind of gum?"

"Oh, those," She brushed her bangs back. Her cheeks were lightly flushed from surprise. "Inside jokes. I called Catherine Cat when we were little but she got sick from too much birthday cake when I turned ten, so I changed it. When I started dating Barry we figured he needed a food name, too, so I named him after bubblegum because he wears so much pink. He also goes by Gumball sometimes."

"Because his heart is so gummy?" I teased sarcastically, which earned me a fist to the shoulder. "How come you don't get a nickname?"

"I do have one. They call me Blondie Bar sometimes, but it's not as catchy."

"So you're saying that they don't use it because you won't let them?"

She grinned, pleased. "Exactly."

There was an awkward pause, so I asked her another question.

"What's up with this jock party?"

Fionna gave an exasperated sigh. "Cake's boyfriend is on the football team and they're planning to throw a huge party if we win the state championship, which we're expected to do. It's a super exclusive bash. Only the team, their girlfriends, and the lucky few with invitations are permitted entry. I got invited this morning, but my plus-one bailed on me."

"For a debate tournament."

She glared. "You shouldn't eavesdrop. It's rude."

I laughed. "You know, that's funny, because I literally dropped from the eaves just now."

Fionna rolled her eyes, but then I saw a scheming glint behind them. "Hey, what are you doing two Saturdays from now?"

"Fionna, I just moved here three days ago. I don't have much of anything planned."

She smiled up at me persuasively. "Well, you may as well get to know some people. How would you like to come to a party with me?"

Well that was a predicament. Personally, I would rather my car fell off the jacks while I was working under it than attend a party put together by football meatheads. However, a few Bubba-free hours with Fionna did sound very tempting. Hmm… "You sure _I'd_ be welcome at something like that?"

She stepped back to size me up. With my black hair that hung down into my dark-green eyes, my red flannel that hung open over a black tee, my dark jeans and converse shoes, I didn't quite come off as someone who spent a whole lot of time socializing. Her thoughtful expression scared me a little.

"Would you be willing to let me tweak with your wardrobe?"

"Define 'tweak.'"

"Oh, nothing major. We'd get you a new shirt, maybe some different jeans, possibly a new pair of shoes. Oh, and a haircut."

"I'm not cutting my hair."

"Can I at least do something different with it?"

"Promise me that it doesn't include scissors or dye, and you can do whatever you want."

She did a little victory fist-pump. "Awesome! So you'll come to the game, too, right?"

I sighed. "Only if you make me."

"I'm making you." She paused to check her watch. "Yikes! I have to go study. My parents will have my head if I fail this History test." She stretched onto her toes to hug me. "Bye."

I stood there for a moment after she was gone, memorizing the feeling of my arms around her waist. I now had plans with an unavailable young woman. What was wrong with me?

**AN:**

The views reflected in Marshall's inner monologues do not necessarily mine. I love football and I have nothing against its players or the name Barry. Please don't eat me. - Dawn


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:**

Just to let you guys know, I do intend to pull some of the Ooo characters into the story later on. For, you know, dramatic purposes. ;)

**DISCLAIMER: **I have no legal rights or anything of the kind to Adventure Time.

**On to the story…**

Lunch passed in a bore, and afternoon classes in a daze. I wasn't interested in paying attention to much aside from my thoughts. I hadn't even known Fionna for 24 hours and she was already treating me like I was on her inner circle of friends. Did she treat everyone this way? I hadn't been around her enough to tell.

When the final class of the day came, I nearly jogged to the theater. I knew very well that I was being ridiculous, but I had to get to know this girl. She was just so unusual, so full of life, so obviously _herself_, it fascinated me in ways that I hadn't dreamed of. It scared me, sickened me, even, but the draw to her was so addictive. Why was I so mesmerized by her? Was it because she was so foreign to me, so unlike my own nature or the nature of everyone I had ever been close to?

Regardless of reason, I couldn't help the smile that crossed my face when I walked into the auditorium to find her sitting by herself, in the sixth row. She had her script out and was mumbling the lines under her breath as I approached.

"So are we ditching again today?" I murmured in her ear when I sat down.

"Nope. If you expect to work with me, you're either going to have to step up to the plate or accept the consequences of your delinquency." She smiled broadly at me, but I could tell that she was serious about her vague threat.

I sighed. "Okay then, I'll work. You should have more faith in me." I regretted those last word as soon as they were out of my mouth. I knew it was just a phrase, but she really shouldn't have faith in me. I didn't deserve faith from anyone, particularly her. I was fairly self-sufficient, but I was at no place in my life to be taking responsibility for anyone else.

"What's with that look?" she interrupted my thoughts.

"What look?"

"_That_ one. The one you're wearing now. It was there yesterday when I asked you about your age."

How was she able to see through me so easily? I prided myself on my ability to remain mysterious and unreadable to the other members of civilization. Did she have some ability to see past others' masks or did I just not have a mask for her?

She let the conversation drop as Mrs. Petrikov had walked in to take attendance before releasing us to work. Fionna stood and led me to the green room. I sat on the couch and she joined me, leaning against the arm and throwing her legs across my lap. I didn't have time to process my thoughts on our current position before she launched into the script.

The scene was not my style (not that theater was at all my style in general.) We played a couple that fought and called off their engagement at the beginning of the scene. I was packing my bags throughout the body of the piece, and it resolved when Fionna announced that she had cheated on me, which somehow led to our reconciliation and…

"We have to_ kiss_?" I gaped in disbelief at the page. "Are they even allowed to make kids do that in high school theater?" There had to be some kind of consent law against it, didn't there? Not that I was totally opposed to making out with the girl next to me… But if I had been, I should've been allowed to object, right?

"Well, it can't be any worse than what teenagers do all on our own, can it?" She laughed innocently. I must not have looked satisfied by that response. She sighed. "A stage kiss is different from a normal kiss. See?" She sat up, cupped my face with both hands, and before I react she brought her lips to mine. A heartbeat later, I realized what she meant. She had placed her thumbs between us so that there was no actual mouth-to-mouth contact.

When she pulled away, I was grateful that she had caught me so by surprise. If I had realized what she was doing sooner, I may have actually tried to kiss her back, which would have been straight up awkward. "Oh." I coughed. "I get it."

She giggled and turned back to her script. "Okay, so we have to memorize our lines and perfect delivery and stuff in two weeks, and then we have another week to work on fine details like blocking. I think we should meet up this Saturday to go over it. Does that work for you?

I sighed. "Fionna, I told you, I've lived here three days. You're really the only person I could possibly have plans with. Yes, it works for me."

"Excellent!" She scribbled an address on the corner of my script. "That's my house. Be there around 2ish?"

"Sounds good." The bell rang then, and Fionna rolled off the couch. When we left the theater, Barry was somehow waiting outside just thirty seconds after classes released. Golden Boy must have charmed a teacher into letting him leave early. Fionna bounced over to greet him and waved goodbye to me as she walked away under her boyfriend's arm. Gritting my teeth, I headed for my car.

I had found this seldom-used parking lot the day prior after leaving my scene partner with Barry by the stadium. It was tucked away between the gym and the auto shop. By the looks of things, only the cars used for autos class were parked there, but there wasn't any sign prohibiting students from using the lot. Taking advantage of this oversight in signage, I had left my black '99 Nissan Maxima there that morning. Sure, Nissans weren't always that flashy, but they were mechanically sound, which was the deciding factor for me when it came to car shopping.

As I rounded my car's bumper I tripped over a pair of legs.

"What the hell?" I shouted, catching the spoiler to steady myself. A guy about my age crawled out from under the totaled VW Beatle next to me.

"My bad," he said, running his fingers through his wild, orange mohawk that was spotted with oil. He was wearing an orange hoodie with the sleeves torn off, and his jeans were shredded and stained with grease. "I'm salvaging parts for the autos class."

I laughed. "They're actually teaching kids on a Bug?" I shook my head disapprovingly. "Those things break down so easily."

"I know, it's ridiculous." He laughed and stuck out his hand. "Call me FP."

"Marshall Lee." I shook his hand. "What does FP stand for?"

"Flame Prince, Prince of Flames, either one. I'm an amateur pyromaniac according to my juvenile record." His there was a trace of pride behind his sinister smirk. I could tell I was going to like this guy.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:**

I apologize for my lack of time to write. End of the quarter, last minute grade fixing, you know the drill…

**DISCALIMER: ** Need I say it again? *sigh* Okay. I own nothing. Happy?

**Let's begin…**

I had spent most of the next few days with FP working on our cars. It wasn't that Fionna and I were ignoring each other, which was definitely _not _the case. She had been busy putting together the school assembly to promote the upcoming championship game. (Of course she was in Leadership on top of everything else. My life would be so much simpler if she wasn't quite so perfect.) It wouldn't be as bad as it was if they didn't put a carrot in front of the noses of each grade. Stupid spirit trip. The way I saw it, we had to take half-an-hour out of our day where we would be forced to competitively worship men in tights. Oh joy.

When Saturday finally rolled around, I was shocked to actually find myself in my car and driving to Fionna's house. Some part of my mind had convinced me that it wouldn't actually happen, like she would cancel at the last minute after deciding that she didn't want to be associated with a guy with my less-than-desirable reputation. Or something like that. Despite my skepticism, however, I had ditched my flannel for a plain red T-shirt and attempted to brush my hair out of my eyes. If she was determined not to be scared of me, then I didn't have to go frightening her parents, did I?

As it turned out, Fionna didn't have parents.

When I pulled up to the front of her quaint, contemporary house, there was only one car in the drive way: an old Mustang. I parked my car on the curb, went up to the front door and knocked.

Catherine opened the door. "Oh, hey, Sugar! You must be Marshall. I'm Catherine, but you're one of Fionna's friends, so you can call me Cake." She stuck out her hand rather enthusiastically. I was more tentative to shake it, but she didn't seem to notice. She just pulled me in the door. "Now, my girl is upstairs. I'm going out with my man, Mo, and you two will be here by yourselves. So be_have_." She glared at me, the warning clear.

"Absolutely," I reassured her. "Wait, this _is_ Fionna's house, right? Where are her parents?"

Cake was quiet for a second. "Look, Fi tries to keep from telling people this if she can, but the two of us are actually adopted sisters. My parents took her in when she was a baby, but they died a few years ago. I'm her legal guardian now, and we live by ourselves."

I was quiet for a moment. "Oh. Okay." Then something occurred to me. "Wait, are you old enough to be raising her? Legally, I mean." Not that I strictly followed the law myself, but how did they get away with it?

Cake laughed and winked deviously at me, which I wasn't expecting, what with the mood of the conversation. "If anyone asks, Mo and I are married. Just for legal reasons. Default emancipation." There was a honk outside. "Oh, speaking of which. Time for me to go. Later, Sugar." She was out the door before I had time to register what she had said. Cake was _married_? I shook my head in disbelief and headed for the stairs.

"Fionna?" I called out, but bumped into her in the hallway before she had a second to respond. It was obvious from where she was standing that she had heard everything Cake had told me. "Oh, um… Hey." I brushed my long hair back nervously.

"Don't worry about it, Marshall." She shrugged sadly. "I probably would have told you my story eventually. I trust you."

I frowned and pulled her into a hug and stood there for a few seconds with her head rested calmly against my chest. She trusted me. For the millionth time since I met this girl, I had a burning desire to tell her the secrets about my past that I had sworn to take to the grave. Or at least some of the more mundane ones, maybe...

_No!_

I cringed as the wiser half of my brain made itself known.

_She pretty. She's swaying you with her big blue eyes. Don't be a fool!_

My frown deepened, but I obeyed my irritating logical side and released Fionna.

"Hey, let's keep you in a good space." I smiled, trying to be encouraging. Wow, this _really_ wasn't like me. In just one short week, this girl had turned the legendary hardcore bad-boy, Marshall Lee Abadeer, into a softie. I hoped this didn't show itself in any other relationships I may develop. It was a good thing I had FP to keep my head on straight now.

She gave me a half-smile - not quite genuine but enough to placate me - and led me upstairs to her room.

The first thing I noticed was the extreme lack of purple, fluffy unicorns and whatever else I had assumed came with being a fourteen-year-old girl. The walls of her room were varying shades of blue, and the ones facing the exterior had several large windows. There was a comfy-looking black sofa along one wall, opposite a small TV with various gaming consoles and an impressive game collection. On either side of the sofa were speakers, about two or three feet tall. The stereo was nearby on her desk, along with a messy assortment of CDs. I found it interesting that she seemed to prefer CDs over an iPod. What I was most impressed by was the wall that her bed backed against. Her bed was twin-sized, and appeared to have been carved from a single tree-trunk. Over her bed hung a sword. Not a cheap, costume-store knock-off katana kind of thing, but a legitimate two-handed claymore with a large, crystalline gem in the hilt that glittered pink in the sunlight. It was hung precariously: vertical, tip pointing down, stopping just a foot or so above Fionna's pillow. I wasn't concerned for her, however, because it seemed to be secured very firmly.

I walked forward, almost in a daze, and carefully removed it from its wall mounts. The balance was startlingly comfortable as I twisted it, watching the sun catch on its polished blade. The craftsmanship was very fine, likely an import from a specialist in Scotland. It must have cost a fortune. My father, a sword-enthusiast, would have been very impressed.

"Fionna, where did you get this? It's impeccable." The look of awe on my face must have been comical, but I was too distracted by the beauty of the weapon to care.

"That's actually my grandfather's. My real grandfather. He tracked me down just before his death, apologized for not taking me in when my mother died after I was born, and gave me that from his private collection before donating the rest to museums. It was his favorite." She crossed her arms self-consciously, gripping her elbows.

"I can see why. It's more of a work of art than a weapon. Do you know how to use it?"

She brightened up at this. "Yes, I do, actually. I fence on Sundays, and I've won a couple of tournaments." She gestured at the bookshelf in her room that was lined with trophies of various kinds. "I've managed to modify a couple of the moves to accommodate a two-handed blade. A professional would probably have a fit over my technique, but I'm pretty sure I'd be able to fight off burglars if I had to."

I grinned wryly. "'Yeah, that's the only thing they can really be used for any more, I guess. But it's still really cool."

She smiled warmly and took it from me, hanging it back up. "That it is. Now let's get to work." She sank onto her bed and motioned for me to join her. I pulled my script out of my bag and dropped it on the floor before joining her. She pulled hers off the bedside table and we began.

We had about the first half memorized when we got off track. Pretty soon we were debating video games, sprawled on the floor by her collection.

"Fionna, it doesn't matter how many times you say it, Assassin's Creed will_ not _teach you how to get away with murdering someone in broad daylight!"

"So you're saying if I dropped out of the sky, stabbed you, and hid in the crowd before anyone could pull my hood off, I would _still_ get caught?"

I laughed. "More than likely, yes. Particularly if you used the Sit-on-a-Bench maneuver for cover. But let's not find out, okay? I'd prefer a more noble death than that."

Her laughter was interrupted by my phone ringing. I check the caller ID, but it wasn't from someone in my contacts. That didn't matter, though, because I doubted I would be able to forget this number if I tried. My smile dropped in a heartbeat. "I have to take this." I muttered coldly and stepped out of the room.

Clenching my fists, I answered the phone. "I thought I told you never to call this number again."

"And _I_ thought I told you you weren't allowed to leave."

**AN:**

Oooh, someone's past is back to haunt him! Sorry about the mostly fluffy chapter. Character development, you know? It has to happen…

So yeah, read and review. Yay!

-Dawn


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:**

I must apologize. I haven't written in weeks and I feel horrible about that. Wow, I suck… I'm not going to make excuses. I'm just lazy and I suck.

I didn't have time to proofread this. Don't hate me.

To clarify, I will not be using non-canonical characters in this particular fanficiton. Sorry!

**DISCLAIMAGE: **Yeah, I get it. I own nothing. Can I please stop this now?

**Let's begin…**

The next couple of days sucked. Hard. I didn't speak to anyone and I spent most of my spare time hiding out in my car with the stereo turned up loud enough to drown out my thoughts. I didn't drink – I hadn't since my mom had been killed by a drunk driver eight months before - but I desperately wanted to. I wanted – no _needed_ – to be blackout drunk, just to escape consciousness for a few hours. Things were bad again, like they had been before the move. I needed an out, but I didn't have one. The she-devil had boxed me into a corner.

After I had hung up my phone I immediately left Fionna's house. My agitated goodbye must have frightened her because she called me on Sunday morning. I didn't pick up, and by Tuesday afternoon I still hadn't listened to the voicemail she left. It wasn't because I was mad at her or anything. I hadn't taken my phone out of my backpack since Saturday. But, since I had Theater with her next, I figured I should listen to it.

"Hey, Marshall, it's Fionna. Um, I just wanted to check and see if you're okay. I'm really worried, so… Call me back when you have a moment, okay? I love y-… I mean, um… Call, please. Bye." The message clicked off.

Well, I felt like a jerk. Knowing Fionna, she was probably giving herself an ulcer with all the worry she was probably feeling. I half-jogged to the Theater. My eyes shot around the room for my favorite blonde as soon as I threw open the doors, but I couldn't find her. Discouraged and depressed, I found a seat at the far end of the eighth row and put my head in my hands. I breathed deeply and fought the urge to run from the building.

"Why the _hell_ haven't you called me back?" A familiar voice demanded from my left. I glanced up to see Fionna glaring at me, arms crossed, hair cast around her in an untamed mess. She looked horrible, but I could see her forehead creased with concern. I stood and wrapped my arms around her. She stiffened, but I could hear her let out the breath she was holding in.

"I'm sorry. Believe me I am," I muttered into her soft hair.

"Then why didn't you call?" She grumbled softly against my chest. I let her go and sat back down.

"Something came up."

"B.S." She sat down next to me.

I groaned, pained. "Fionna, I'm begging you, please stay out of it."

"No! Marshall, I want to help."

"You can't. This has nothing to do with you, and I plan to keep it that way."

"But-"

"No!" I growled, snapping my head around to meet her eyes. For the first time since we met, Fionna Mertens looked genuinely scared of me. "No, Fionna."

"Don't you dare think you can keep me out of this," she snapped back, but I could tell I had broken her firm resolve. She could sense there was something abnormal about the situation, but she was still determine to figure out what.

After school, I ran for my car. There had to be a way to keep Fionna safe no matter what loose end of mine she pulled on, and she seemed determined to find one. How in bloody hell did this girl think that my business was hers? She'd only known me for a few days!

"Yo, Marshall!" FP called from across the parking lot. He was leaning against his car and texting someone. "Hey, where have you been? I thought you were going to help me out with the prep work Autos during 4th period today!"

"Yeah, sorry, man. Some stuff came up." I shrugged as I unlocked my car.

FP laughed ruthlessly. "That stuff wouldn't have anything to do with your pretty little freshman, would it?"

I grimaced. "Not if I have anything to do with it."

My answer seemed to confuse him, but he just shrugged. "Whatever, dude. Hey, so some of my friends are throwing a party this Saturday. Kind of an anti-championship-game thing. You in?"

I groaned. Shoot, I couldn't tell him I was going to the jock party with 'my pretty little freshman.' I didn't even want to imagine his reaction. "Ah, I can't. I'm busy. Later, FP." I got in my car and pulled away without looking back at him, my shame at my sellout burning my face.

When I got home, I threw my bag on my bed and pulled out my cursed phone. I punched in the number I had sworn to myself that I would never dial again and pressed call.

There was a click, and her voice crooned from the other end of the line, "Well well, Marshall Lee Abadeer. I thought you'd never get back to me, Baby. Did you make a decision?"

"Yeah, I decided you can go to hell. Now shut up and let me talk, Marceline."

**AN:**

I know someone will ask, so I'll answer it now: Marshall knew Fionna had called him on Sunday morning despite not having touched his phone because he had set different ring and notification tones for her.

Yes, it's short. I'm so so sorry.

Also, I realized that I'm _really_ hard on Marceline in both my Adventure Time fanfictions. Which is weird, because she's one of my favorite characters. Hmm.

-Dawn


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:**

Sorry for the continual Marceline cliffhangers. Those will begin to be dealt with in this latest installment of I'm Not A Vampire. Enjoy! (I hope…)

**DISCLAIMAGE: **I own nothing but my own dreams, although many of those _feature_ Marshall Lee. Not really. I wish. I should learn to control my dreams… NEW LIFE GOAL!

**Anyway…**

Over the next few days, my Fionna continued to pepper me with questions about my rather unstable past, all of which I refused to answer. In other depressing news, my thoughts had, quite without my permission, started calling her _my_ Fionna with frightening regularity. I wasn't sure what to do with that latest subconscious development. I had only known this girl for two weeks. I couldn't ask what the hell was wrong with me, because I knew of _many_ things that were wrong with me. I just couldn't pinpoint which particular issue was responsible at the moment.

The day was Friday, the evening of the championship game, and a certain freshman had decided it would be a wonderful idea to take me shopping… with Bubba in tow. Fortunately, Prince Pinky was meeting someone else at the mall, the captain of another debate team who he was carpooling to his tournament with. Apparently her school was our school's mortal rival, but the two of them went way back so they were cool anyway. I didn't pay attention to school alliances in any case, not even in my old town where I had grown up (heck, I didn't even know who we were playing at the game that night) and it was also Bubba's business so I didn't really care. Regardless of nuance, until this other girl showed up I was an unwilling and uncooperative third wheel to Pretty in Pink and _my_ Fionna. Life sucks sometimes.

I leaned my head against a wall and groaned as Fionna sorted through the millionth stack of jeans. They all looked exactly the same to me, but none of them met Fionna's standards. I was beginning to think this was because they all really _were_ the exact same pairs of jeans and she was simply failing to notice this fact. "Fionna, at what point do you give up?"

"I don't," she mumbled, half-aware, as she plunged headlong into another shelf, eliciting another groan from me.

Gumball pranced over at this point, arms loaded with a variety of pink sweaters, pink vests, pink sweater-_vests_, and several white button-ups. In his hands he held one of the jean clones and a pair of fancy-looking black shoes. "Ready to go, Baby?" he chimed cheerfully. She waved her hand dismissively, an evident 'no.'

My hands went to my hair. I was going mad. "Fionna, come _on_! Barry found an entire fairy wardrobe in the time it took you to _not_ find me a single pair of jeans."

Bubba examined his finds, confused. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean? These are far too big for fairies."

I may or may not have literally facepalmed. "Barry, if you don't win _Most Likely to Succeed _in the superlatives this year, it's a crime against humanity." I think he picked up on my sarcasm, but I didn't care enough to make sure. It was a small miracle that my Fionna was too distracted by the surrounding clothing to pay attention to this little exchange.

"Ugh, I give up!" Fionna emerged from the shirt racks empty handed. "Bubba, go buy that stuff so we can leave. This store reeks of failure and disappointment." With that she stalked out.

Five stores later, still no luck. As we left the latest estabishment, "Bubba!" a chipper voice called from behind us. My guts clenched at the sound, the familiar voice that had haunted me like a pesky, vivacious rash or bug bite since my infancy.

_Please be anyone else!_ I groaned internally as I turned slowly to face the newcomer.

The pretty blonde gasped in surprise and dashed forward, throwing her arms around me. Her cotton-candy-colored purse hit me in the head. _Thanks, Bonnibel_. "Marshall! I thought we were never going to hear from you again! We assumed you'd dropped off the face of the Earth, Silly! I'm glad Marceline finally got a hold of you. I was worried, and Marcie was really upset that you left." The perky little princess was grinning from ear to ear, but I knew her better than that. Her words were a deeply concealed warning, and not a friendly one.

Regardless of their true intent, they caught Fionna's attention. Skipping straight past formalities, she blurted out, "Who's Marceline?" I cringed, desperate to avoid any path of conversation that would give my Fionna traction in her ceaseless battle to inject herself in my horrifying past.

For the veyr first time since I had met the pretty-boy brat, I was glad for Gumball's presence. "Wait. _You_ used to hang out with_ him_?" His incredulity at the fact that someone whose perfection was arguably equal to his would voluntarily associate themselves with someone who had my kind of reputation would be more offensive if it weren't such a relief.

"Oh, yes, of course! Our parents all went to the same college, so Marshall Lee and I pretty much grew up together, and we ran with the same crowd at school until he moved a few weeks ago. Right, Marsh?"

_If someone could just shoot me right now, that would be spectacular._ Bonnie knew exactly what she was doing to me. True, we had run with the same 'crowd,' although in truth it had been my crowd that she had invaded because she had harbored a massive crush on me since we were five. Bonnie was a smart girl, though, and she knew how to make herself indispensable. Nobody in the Brotherhood wanted her around, but they had become so reliant on her special set of skills that I didn't think they knew how to operate without her anymore. And, of course, she knew that. She used that leverage over Marceline however and whenever she could. "Yeah, we hung out sometimes. Don't you two need to get going?" I raised an eyebrow at Bubba.

"Oh, yes. Of course we do. We don't want to be late for registration." He turned and gave Fionna, _my _Fionna, an intense farewell kiss that, in truth, made things a little awkward for everyone involved. He then grabbed Bonnie's bags and began leading her away. About thirty seconds later, the pink horrors were gone, although Bonnibel gave me a look and several well-concealed threats as she left that told me one thing: now that they knew where I was, the Brotherhood would never leave me alone. Not until Marceline got her golden boy back. No, not gold. Black-gold.

The rest of the shopping trip with my Fionna was awkward. We went without words for the most part, but fortunately, by some not-so-small miracle, she finally found an outfit for me almost as soon as her boyfriend left. Maybe Gumball was a shopping jinx. I hoped she made the same connection.

Soon enough, we were in my car and speeding down the freeway back to her place. She had hardly spoken since asking Bonnie who Marceline was. I knew her well enough by now to know she was stewing, planning her assault. It couldn't have been long before the onslaught of questions would begin. I had to act first, knock her off her balance before she could attack.

"So, you failed to mention what school Gumball's friend was from."

"No I didn't. I told you, but you were busy ignoring me. I get that you hate shopping, but that was really impressive how thoroughly you tuned me out. Props, kid." Dang. Not the response I was expecting, _and_ she was angry with me. She wasn't going to be deterred, so I just stared out across the road and waited for her to begin.

I loved that she wasn't one to beat around the bush, but in this instance, anything else would have been preferable to her next question.

"Who is Marceline?"

I shook my head. "Nope, not answering that."

"Marshall Lee, be serious for a second."

My head snapped around to face her, and she shrank back in her seat at the fury she must have found in my eyes. "I _am_ being serious, Fionna. Maybe you're the one who needs to take this seriously. Not everything is a child's game. Grow up and accept that you don't get to know everything." I was seething, the words coming out sharp as a blade, but even through my anger there was a pang of guilt at having lashed out at Fionna. It wasn't enough to make me apologize, but it was there.

"Grow _up_?" I then remembered that Fionna hated being accused of being immature. She prided herself on being _far_ more mature that the average fourteen-year-old. Not that I cared. She should know me better than to expect me to tap-dance around her pet-peeves. "Wow, Marshall, I'm getting really sick of this 'messed-up bad-boy' routine."

That hit a nerve. "It isn't a _routine_, Fionna! It's not like I have to _strive_ be like this! It's just how I _am_! I don't expect you to get it, but it's not an act." I slammed my hand on the steering wheel in frustration. Fionna sat beside, mute, and I didn't dare look at her. "I'm from a different world than you. It's not a place for you, for your kind. Stop trying to change that."

There was a suspended silence in the car. I finally understood the meaning of the phrase 'deafeningly quiet.' It was a long moment before Fionna spoke again.

"You know I'm going to figure this out."

That pained me. "You really shouldn't."

"You've mentioned."

"I'm not going to help you."

"I know."

I sighed. When we pulled up to her house and I parked, I finally turned to face her. She looked upset, but determined.

"Where does this leave us?" I asked.

She pursed her lips. "I think it's a stalemate."

"Can we just forget about this for now?" I desparately wanted to put are argument behind us. Now that I was calming down it was dawning on me how much of a jerk I had been. Normally I didn't care what people thought of me in the least, but the idea of Fionna realize how horrible of a person I was… It was too much. And if I'd frightened her? Unthinkable.

To my relief, she smiled. "Yeah, let's do that." Not to my relief, she followed with, "We have to get you ready for the game, anyway." I groaned and she pouted. "You promised you'd try to make a good impression on my friends. Well, Cake's friends. But still, you promised."

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I wasn't entirely convinced she couldn't hear me rolling them. "I think that ship has sailed already, but you're right. I did promise." I got out of the car and jumped the hood to get her door. Get her door? Since when was I a gentleman?

She smiled and took my hand, pulling me inside. The glee in her beautiful blue eyes was frightening. "This is going to be so much fun! Just wait and see!"

**AN:**

More dirt on Marshall Lee in the next chapter!

-Dawn


End file.
